


tristis eris (si solus eris)

by orphan_account



Series: odero, si potero (si non, invitus amabo) [1]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Historical, Crossover, Demon!Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Human!Obito, I Don't Even Know, Implied Relationships, Kakashi being the irksome troll he is, M/M, Minor Character Death, Obito being bipolar, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For Kakashi, the red string of destiny comes in the form of a small, pink, shiny orb and an abandoned well.





	tristis eris (si solus eris)

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't supposed to turn out like this, but what's new. inuyasha!au in which kakashi is a dog demon and obito is a cinnamon roll, except he's not because he's a little shit. if anything doesn't make sense, please let me know! sometimes i tend to forget people can't actually read what's in my mind. also, inaccuracies, lots of them.
> 
> edit: if you guys appreciate this au and IF i manage to find the inspiration, i may decide to turn this into a series of oneshots, since i'm not too good at writing stuff with Plot and i don't have the actual time to write a chaptered fic. if you're interested in the idea, you can let me know in the comments!

Kakashi wakes to the sound of soft curses and of something snapping somewhere below him, and he yawns silently, blinking away tears from the corner of his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to be fully aware of his surroundings, and he frowns, because the lack of sunlight and the strong earthy smell and moisture permeating the air are a clear sign it’s not past dawn, but someone dumb enough has clearly decided that wandering through the woods would be a good idea all the same.

He tucks the discarded book in his obi, stretching thoroughly from his perch on the high branch before descending with a swift movement. He lands gracefully, the impact softened by the dampness of lush grass, and he’s about to shake the dirt off his yukata when a startled voice breaks the calm of the night.

“What the _hell_?!” A boy, knocked on his butt barely two feet away, exclaims, and Kakashi can’t help but frown at what little he can make out of his appearance. He looks worn out, patches of dirt staining his face and clothes and, judging by the gust of iron smell, a raw gash running down the side of the arm he’s using to rudely point at Kakashi like he’s seen a ghost or something equally disturbing. He sighs.

“Look kid, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there,” a blatant lie, but the boy doesn’t need to know that. Apparently, he also doesn’t know what good manners are.

“Oh my god, nevermind that, what the hell are _those_?!” He shrieks, eyes fixed on the top of Kakashi’s head, and he instinctively lifts a hand to pat the crown of his head in case there’s something in his hair. It wouldn’t be the first time a couple of stray leaves get tangled in his hair, but today there doesn’t seem to be anything out of place.

“No no, your hair is fine, I think, I mean it _does_ look like a bird’s nest, but whatever. I was talking about the ears– _oh god_ , did they just _twitch_?” He says quickly, and Kakashi doesn’t know whether to laugh at the way his eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets or be offended by the comment about his hair, which is _perfectly fine_ , thank you very much.

In the end, he decides to be the better person, stifling an amused laugh against the back of his hand and taking a tentative step forward. Even in the weak moonlight, he doesn’t miss the way the boy tenses as if he’s actually scared of him, and he stops in his tracks, crouching down at the same eye level to hopefully come off as less intimidating. “Relax,” he says, eyes crinkling at the edges when he attempts a reassuring smile, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The kid still looks like he’s about to hyperventilate though, and he groans, because despite being keen on minding his own business, Kakashi is also responsible enough not to leave a person, who’s by the looks of it probably lost, alone in the forest, at _night_. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He asks, hoping it will get the boy to calm down and stop seeing him as a threat.

The kid shakes his head, but doesn’t add anything, and he takes it as his cue to go on. “Listen kid, I don’t know how or why you got here in the first place, but it’s dangerous to wander the woods at night. Judging by your reaction to seeing my ears, I take it you’re not exactly familiar with demons, and I’m sorry to inform you that this place swarms with them,” he stands, “and they’re usually not as friendly as I’m being with you right now.”

The look of utter horror that shows up on his face would’ve been priceless if not for the fact that he now looks like he’s about to cry and that most certainly wasn’t Kakashi’s intention. Probably.

He closes the distance between them, reaching out with a hand in a silent invitation to stand up, and the boy unsurprisingly accepts it in his own trembling one as he picks himself up. “Good boy,” Kakashi says, patting a crown of dark hair, and he doesn’t miss the way his face scrunches up even in the darkness.

“Look, _old man_ , I’m not a kid and I’m most certainly _not_ a dog, okay? I just turned eighteen yesterday, you know, and also I’ve got an actual name, which is Obito, for future reference,” _Obito_ huffs, even as the look of annoyance etching his face quickly turns into one of terror as a rustling sound comes from a nearby bush and he practically flings himself at Kakashi, clinging onto him for dear life.

Kakashi can only snort. “Relax, it’s just a squirrel,” he says, pointing at the two small orbs of light staring right back at them to make a point. He feels Obito relax his grip, and after approximately three seconds in which he must have come to realize the awkward position he put them in, he quickly lets go of Kakashi like he’s scorching hot.

“So– sorry,” he stutters, “I didn’t mean to, like, invade your personal space or anything,” he finishes in a whisper, scratching the back of his head.

Kakashi stares at him like he’s suddenly grown two heads. “Why so shy all of a sudden? You didn’t look like you were trying to hold yourself back when you insulted my perfectly styled hair two minutes ago,” he teases, stretching his lips into a knowing smile when Obito predictably ducks his head in embarrassment. Kakashi kind of prides himself at being at least _decent_ at analyzing people, and Obito’s probably the kind of loudmouth that blurts out anything that comes to mind before his brain has the actual time to process the thought, and then has at least the decency to be embarrassed about it because he’s probably still a nice human being.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures, grabbing the chopstick that is keeping his hair tied in a bun against his nape and pulling it out. He feels the tension on his scalp decreasing considerably as the braid falls along his spine, and he brushes it over his shoulder and against the side of his neck, its length reaching all the way to his waist. “You’re not the first and certainly won’t be the last to make comments about my hair, and by now I’ve learnt not to take them to heart. I try to keep it in check by braiding it but my bangs are a lost cause. Blame it on my dad’s heritage,” he explains, running his fingers through the short tufts of hair that curl up at the ends in a futile attempt at combing them. “See?”

Obito snickers against the palm of his hand. “Well, if you want to keep them straight so bad, you should probably try with gel. I would lend you mine except I don’t even know where the hell I am, let alone how to get home,” he says, the skin of his brow creasing in a concerned frown.

Kakashi doesn’t really know what to make of that statement, because how does one _not_ know how or why they got to a certain place, unless they were moved while unconscious. Maybe he had been kidnapped? But then again, that’s just him speculating, and he opts to disregard the matter for the time being.

“Oh, don’t worry, nothing about me is really straight anyway so I don’t mind my hair joining the club, and gel? Never heard of it,” he retorts, staring at the moon and pointedly ignoring the sputtering that’s coming from beside him. _Ah_ , riling up young innocent people, one of his favorite pastimes.

Obito pounds one fist against his rib cage after a particularly violent coughing fit that followed him probably choking on his own saliva, and stares at Kakashi with tear filled eyes. “Well, that was unexpected,” he breathes, “but after the _freaking_ ears it’s going to be hard to shock me more than that, you know.”

Kakashi is about to snort (because he hates to admit it, but he was just downright read like an open book), when the rustling sound of birds hurriedly leaving their nests and a faint foreign smell coming from deeper inside the forest make him tense up. Obito looks at him worriedly, and makes himself smaller against Kakashi’s side as he whispers, “isn’t it just another squirrel?”

Kakashi slaps a hand on his mouth, lifting a finger to his own lips and crouching down with his back facing the boy when he’s got his point to shut the _hell_ up across. He signals for him to get on, and he’s not surprised when Obito doesn’t even attempt to argue.

He places his hands against the back of Obito’s thighs to secure them around his waist, and with an effortless leap they’re suddenly rushing among the vegetation in practiced movements.

Kakashi feels Obito’s frame quiver against his back in the cold, and while he’s the one who’s mostly exposed to the frosty wind meeting them head on, he’s also a perfectly healthy, resilient demon, while Obito is human and injured and worn out and for some godforsaken reason is only wearing a short sleeved top and really thin pants, judging by the texture of them.

He gives a sympathetic squeeze, and offers, “you can stick your hands inside my haori, if it helps. We’re almost at the edge anyway.”

He feels Obito’s head move in a curt nod against his nape, and a few moments and some fumbling later, there are icy fingertips resting against the skin of his collarbones. He barely contains a hiss. “Oh _hell_ , I’m surprised they haven’t fallen off yet,” he manages between deep breathes, an old habit he’s developed to help keep his heartrate in check while he’s running.

Obito quickly removes his hands, fisting them in the fabric covering Kakashi’s shoulders, and Kakashi has to refrain himself from head butting him or something equally violent. He opts for an exasperated moan. “Did I say you should remove them? All this running is getting me kind of hot anyway,” he says, hoping it will get Obito to stop being so clearly bipolar, being a snarky little shit one second and a considerate, stuttering mess the second after. It’s kind of unnerving, really.

They step into a clearing a few minutes later, the darkness of the night starting to give way to the first rays of light, and Kakashi halts to a stop to put the stubborn idiot down and drape his haori over trembling shoulders.

Obito offers him a grateful smile, and Kakashi almost stops breathing altogether. “Thank you,” he breathes, a faint shade of pink making its appearance on the bridge of his nose, and Kakashi _almost_ wants to cry. He lifts a hand to Obito’s face, tilting his chin up to inspect his features in the sunlight and he comes to the conclusion that he’s officially lost his mind, because there’s _no way_ this is not Tobi (he refuses to acknowledge the freckles and the thin scars littering his right side that should not be there), but at the same time there’s no way this _is_ Tobi, because Tobi died fifteen years ago, sacrificed his own life in exchange for Kakashi’s miserable one, and Kakashi has come to terms with the fact a long time ago.

“You– How did you say you got lost?” He manages, choked, releasing Obito’s face when he’s clearheaded enough to notice the worried look sent his way.

Obito clears his throat, winding the haori tighter around himself as he stares at Kakashi with concerned eyes. “I– don’t really know. I was helping my grandma tidy up the family’s shrine when I noticed something shiny on the bottom of the well. I think I was using a movable stair to get down and pick it up when I must have slipped and hit my head. I don’t remember much, but I _do_ know I woke up a couple of hours ago in the bottom of that well and– wait,” he halts, gaze fixed on the well standing in the middle of the clearing. He takes one, two steps, and he’s suddenly rushing in its direction with awkward movements, cocooned in Kakashi’s haori like an oversized eggroll.

Kakashi watches in amusement as he almost flings himself over the edge, seemingly peering down in the darkness in search of something, and he turns around with an excited shout. “There! Found it!”  

Obito motions for Kakashi to come over, and Kakashi doesn’t need to be told twice, because there’s a sudden shadow looming over the boy’s small form and the look of dawning terror twisting his face is on the edge of painful to look at. He’s there in a split second, unsheathed katana in hand as he slices the _omukade_ from head to rear in a single swoop, and he grabs Obito by the waist before he can be hit by any body part.

They land a few feet away, and he’s about to let go of the boy to get out of his personal space and inspect him for any unlikely damage, except Obito looks white as a sheet, probably on the verge of fainting, his fingers twisting frantically in the fabric of Kakashi’s yukata, and he comes to the conclusion that it’s probably not the best idea.

He awkwardly places a hand on Obito’s head, caressing the short hair in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, and moves the arm sustaining the boy’s waist to wind it around his shoulders. “Ssh, it’s fine, it’s over,” he reassures, casting a sideway glance at the unmoving body of the centipede. Obito muffles a hiccup against his chest, but remains otherwise unresponsive, probably trying to inwardly calm himself down.

By the time Obito has deemed himself steady enough to remove himself from Kakashi’s side, the sun has almost completely risen past the horizon, its rays casting a reddish and violet shade of light over the clearing.

Obito stares incredulously as the dead body starts dissolving into thin air, its flesh slowly turning into particles of dust as they ascend towards the sky and disappear in the atmosphere, leaving only bones behind.

Kakashi grabs Obito’s hand, tugging him towards the well. “Come on, what did you want to show me?” He asks, ignoring the protests coming from behind him (“ _No, wait! I’m not ready to go anywhere near that thing yet!_ ”) as he virtually drags Obito over the small distance separating them from the well.

He peers over the edge, and right away he knows what Obito was referring to without having to ask anything. “Maa, it looks like we’ve got a problematic situation in our hands,” he sighs, and with a few swift movements he’s suddenly jumping down and climbing back up, Sacred Jewel secured in his left hand.

“What? Do you know what it is?” Obito inquires, eyes fixed on the pink stone. “Isn’t it like a talisman? Our shrine is full of crap like that, my grandma is an incurable hoarder, even though she’s still in the phase of denial at eighty-three,” he snickers, moving closer to study the object.

Kakashi stares at him for a few seconds, wondering what kind of sheltered life he must have led until now, in order not to know  _anything_ about the demons lurking the shadows and what the jewel he’s holding is. He sighs.

“This is not just some  _crap_ , Obito. It’s called the Sacred Jewel, and it’s an extremely dangerous object. Remember the demon that attacked you before? Yeah, I thought so. I have a few reasons to believe it was probably after the jewel, considering the amount of power it grants its owner. And that is exactly why it was  _supposedly_ destroyed years ago,” he explains, rolling his eyes when Obito just blinks confusedly at him. “What─”

“What do you mean by  _destroyed years ago_? As far as I can remember, that thing has been lying around in our shrine for years, and no one has ever bothered to hide it from potential demon thieves,” he interrupts, staring at Kakashi with a suspicious frown on his face. “Oh wait, that’s probably because where I live there are  _no_ freaking demons _at all_. Actually, I’m probably dreaming right now, there’s no other explanation,” he finishes with a groan, face scrunching up as he slaps both of his cheeks twice. 

Kakashi snorts at the childish action, and ruffles Obito’s hair before he can stop himself. “Are you really eighteen? You act more like a twelve year old if I’m being honest with you,” he teases with a grin on his face, and Obito scowls at him from under his lashes, swatting Kakashi’s hand away.

“Or maybe  _you_ are the one who’s so used to acting like an old geezer that you can’t help yourself calling people  _of age_ ‘kids’,” the snarky half of Obito says, and while Kakashi has to admit he’s not  _completely_ wrong, he also kind of wants to choke the life out of the little shit. He just scoffs.

“How old are you, anyway? You look pretty young yourself,” Obito continues, eyeing him like it’s the first time he’s actually taking in Kakashi’s appearance. It probably is, considering how busy he was being a scaredy cat up until two minutes ago. “Actually, what is your _name_ first of all. I’ve been referring to you as _the gay demon_ this entire time in my head,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Maa, how rude of me. I’m Kakashi, nice to meet you. And to answer your first question, that’s kind of a tricky one. You see, demons age a lot slower than humans, and by consequence live a longer life. If you’re asking for the human equivalent of my age, I would probably say somewhere around twenty-six, but I’ve been alive for well past seventy years now,” he says, engraving the look of utter incredulity flashing across Obito’s wide eyes for future enjoyment. He’s never had the luxury of coming across someone who would be so surprised by the piece of information, so excuse him if he’s going to make the most of the reaction while he can.

Obito gapes at him for a good whole minute, and then drags a hand down the scarred side of his face as he whispers, “what the _hell_ , I’m totally dreaming right now.”

“You’re totally _not_ dreaming right now, considering I’m pretty sure I’m not just a figment of your imagination, so you’d better come up with a better explanation than that, because I’m starting to freak out myself,” Kakashi says, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles encouragingly. “Even the option of you coming from another dimension sounds more likely right now,” he adds jokingly, totally not expecting the gasp the statement provokes in Obito.  

“That’s it, you’re a genius!” Obito yells, looking at him with glossy eyes. “I was wondering why I would wake up in a well that looks _exactly_ like the one I fell in, just more recent, but in a completely different place, but what if it’s not the place that has changed?” He makes a dramatic pause, and Kakashi wants to strangle him all the more. “What if it’s the _time_?”

Kakashi looks at him like he’s suddenly grown horns. “Are you trying to tell me you travelled back in time?”

Obito’s head jerks in a nod, and the expression on his face says he doesn’t know whether to be excited about it or start crying any moment. Kakashi studies him, observes his odd clothing and footwear and the objects adorning his arms, and he comes to the conclusion that it would actually explain _a lot._ Like the reason why he looks eerily similar to his past lover.

“Okay, so let’s say you actually come from the future. I think it would be safe to assume the reason you got here in the first place is because of this,” he reasons, lifting the hand in which he’s holding the Sacred Jewel. “And assuming you also probably want to get back as soon as possible, I think you need this,” he dangles the object in front of Obito’s face, and even if he wanted to pretend to be an asshole, the hopeful look Obito sends his way is enough to make every residue of harmless malice crumble away.

Kakashi heaves an exasperated sigh, because they’ve known each other for barely an hour, and he’s already doing more for this person than he has for anyone in the last fifteen years.

“Come on,” he grabs Obito’s wrist, “I know someone who could help us.”


End file.
